God no!
by 221BluePoliceBox
Summary: All it takes is one moment for everything to go horribly wrong (oneshot, johnlock)


**God no!**

**I spent the night watching Johnlock videos on youtube and this idea came to me so I had to write it. This is my first time writing something like this so please leave me a review I'd love to hear your thoughts. Also I am going to shamelessly plug my other Sherlock story Trigger please check that out and leave a review for that too it would really make my day!**

**Disclaimer**

**Sadly I don't own Sherlock.**

"You did not predict the fortune cookie Sherlock," John said shaking his head as he walked back with him to their flat.

"What, of course I did what are you talking about? You heard me do it before you opened your fortune cookie, did I or did I not tell you exactly what it was going to say?" Sherlock protested.

"Yeah, alright you did but that wasn't what I was saying," John argued barely suppressing a smile.

"Then what were you saying?" Sherlock enquired his dark eyes meeting his for just a moment causing him to look away inhaling sharply but not quite able to explain why. He wasn't sure what caused the reaction or if Sherlock even noticed or cared, even if he did he said nothing of it.

"I'm saying you worked it out somehow because there is no way you predicted what the cookie said," John answered.

"Fine, do you want me to tell you?" he asked causing John to shake his head as Sherlock turned his coat collar up against the wind at the exact moment John expected him to.

"Every time," John said with a smirk.

"Shut up, now do you want me to tell you or not?" Sherlock asked without missing a beat.

"No, it's fine," John said to throw Sherlock off his stride and to see how long it would take him to tell him anyway because he just couldn't resist the chance to show off.

They walked in silence for a few minutes before Sherlock began to tell him regardless of if he wanted to know or not. "It was simple really, the restaurant has a stockpile of six possible cookies any one person can receive at the end of their meal. They have a sets of cookies that they use on a quarterly basis. In other words there are a set choice of six fortunes you can receive that change once every three months. We visited the restaurant a few weeks ago when the cookies had just been changed based on the date. When our bill and cookies came out I was given a clear view into the kitchen and the labelled boxes where the cookies were stored therefore allowing me to know exactly what your fortune would be. Like I said, I can always predict the fortune cookie," he said with a triumphant smirk.

He laughed "that's not something many people would be proud of Sherlock," he pointed out.

"I didn't say I was proud of it I just said it was something I could always do, there is a difference," Sherlock responded as they neared their flat.

"Yeah, alright Sherlock," he said shaking his head. John jumped as a loud bang erupted through the deserted street. "What was that?" he asked whipping round fully expecting to see Sherlock's exasperated expression as he told John what he had yet again managed to miss.

"Sherlock?" he asked again as a strange noise met his ears. "Sherlock?" he yelled as he saw Sherlock fall heavily to the ground. He was at his side in seconds to find out what as wrong with him. "Sherlock, what is is it? Can you hear me, can you tell me what's wrong?" he asked urgently as he put his arms round Sherlock to support his body and keep it off the cold ground.

"Isn't it obvious, you're a doctor John," Sherlock got out as he clearly struggled to breathe. The words were faint and hard to hear causing John to lean closer to him to hear him. His blood ran ice cold as he noticed the blood that coated Sherlock's lips. "Jesus," he uttered as he forced himself to look and saw the blood rapidly pooling on the ground and the dark stain covering the centre of Sherlock's infamous coat.

Sherlock, it's alright just stay with me everything's fine," John said adopting the same forced calm voice he used when tending to men in the army hospital with wounds so horrific he knew there was no way they could survive. He couldn't think that way, Sherlock was going to be fine. It was Sherlock for Christ sake, he was going to be fine.

He phoned for an ambulance as he pulled Sherlock's coat and scarf off him as gently as he could to avoid hurting him further. He reached out with trembling fingers to brush the blood off Sherlock's lips using his spare hand to press Sherlock's coat against the gunshot wound in Sherlock's chest. The amount of blood Sherlock was loosing was alarming as it stained the coat and John's hands. Where the hell was that ambulance?

"Seems this really is my goodbye now," Sherlock rasped coughing painfully as more blood ran from his mouth which John shakily brushed away using the other to keep pressure on his wound.

"No, don't say that don't talk like that, you are going to be alright," John whispered to him. He moved his hand to check his pulse it was weak, he was about to pull back when he felt Sherlock's fingers weakly grasp his. John nodded slightly and silently held his hand giving it a reassuring squeeze trying to stop his hand shaking.

"I'm not going to be alright John, you're a doctor, a good doctor we both know i'm not going to be alright," he uttered.

John bit his lip squeezing his hand again, what could he say they both knew that as usual Sherlock was right. He respected Sherlock too much to lie to him or offer him platitudes all he could do now was be there for him and make sure he was as comfortable as possible. He had to stay strong for him there was plenty of time for him to fall apart later. Right now he had to savour the last few moments he had with Sherlock.

John placed his own jacket over Sherlock to try and keep him warm as he held him in his arms feeling tears welling in his eyes. "I'm here Sherlock, i'm right here, you're not alone," he whispered to him. He knew all too well that Sherlock had spent far too much of his life alone and it was a cold comfort to him knowing that it wasn't going to end that way.

He leaned a little closer to Sherlock to ensure his coat was tucked tightly round him when he felt Sherlock's hand that he was still holding pull him weakly towards him . "What is it Sherlock?" he asked as he moved much closer to him so he could hear what he needed. He was surprised when Sherlock's blood stained lips touched his. "Sherlock?" John uttered shocked.

"John, don't speak, it's okay," Sherlock mumbled as his lips touched John's again feeling him responding. He couldn't believe Sherlock was doing this now. John had spend years battling the growing feelings he felt for his friend and flatmate they were new and strange to him but the more time he spent with Sherlock the harder they were to deny. He had fought the feelings as he thought there was no way Sherlock could feel the same about him. He thought himself lucky to have him in his life as a friend.

"Now, you do this now, come on Sherlock you can't leave me, not now," he pleaded with his friend as tears spilled down his pale cheeks as he held Sherlock closer to him willing the ambulance to hurry up. There had to be something they could do he couldn't lose Sherlock, not now.

"Best time, we know I'd of been useless in a relationship, they are not my area," he uttered as he felt his eyes begin to shut as his body shook in John's arms

"No, Sherlock, no!" John urged holding him tighter pressing his lips against Sherlock's again, he couldn't leave him.

"Thank you," he uttered is voice nearly impossible to hear but John heard, he always heard what Sherlock said even the things he didn't always say out loud but it seemed as usual he had missed everything of importance and now it was too late to do anything about it.

He stayed on the ground holding Sherlock's body to him. "No, don't leave him alone," he yelled as paramedics gently pulled him back so they could take Sherlock away.

"We will get him John, we will get the bastard," Lestrade said quietly as he held John back to let the paramedics move Sherlock. None of what Lestrade was saying about a sniper who he guessed was most likely someone Sherlock had put in jail for a while who'd held a grudge but that he would make sure they got him and they paid for what they did to Sherlock.

John heard none of it none of it mattered Sherlock was dead, really dead and this time there was going to be no return...


End file.
